


love is here to stay

by fonulyn



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Claire makes a small appearance, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, that's it it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 05:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20325745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonulyn/pseuds/fonulyn
Summary: “How the hell did we end up with this many boxes?” Leon groaned, gesturing towards the admittedly quite impressive pile of cardboard boxes piled into the living room of their new apartment. “I don’t even own that much shit. Where did all of this come from?”-Or the one wherein moving in together isgreatbut unpackingsucks.





	love is here to stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miramise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miramise/gifts).

> Happy birthday, Mira! I hope you'll get a smile out of this silly little thing :3

“How the hell did we end up with this many boxes?” Leon groaned, gesturing towards the admittedly quite impressive pile of cardboard boxes piled into the living room of their new apartment. “I don’t even own that much shit. Where did all of this come from?”

“I think half of it is from Claire.” Chris shrugged a little, not really that bothered by the boxes. He approached Leon and wrapped his arms around the other man from behind, resting his chin on Leon’s shoulder to at least take a look at the pile of their belongings. “She’s been giving us both crap for not having ‘the basic kitchen essentials’ so,” the quotation was clearly audible in his voice, “I guess she took it upon herself to change that.”

Leon grimaced. He leaned back into the embrace nevertheless, unwilling to let anything distract him from the closeness. “She should be the one unpacking these, then.” He absolutely hated unpacking. He’d been living in the exact same shoebox of an apartment for the past decade only because he _loathed _packing and unpacking and everything else that came with a move. Had it not been for Chris asking him if they’d find a place together, he might’ve never moved.

The reply was a low hum, from where Chris had pressed his face into Leon’s neck, mouthing at the smooth skin. “Good luck with that. You know as well as I do that she’s never going to do that.” He slipped a hand under Leon’s shirt, tracing Leon’s side and abdomen with his fingers. “We could do something more productive with our time than staring at these.”

“We should?” Leon laughed, the sound low and rich. Willingly he melted back against Chris, enjoying the way that broad chest felt against his back, the warmth that was radiating from Chris and making him relax. He was still eyeing the boxes, but already felt his attention being pulled away from them. “What did you have in mind, then?” 

”We could test drive that new mattress we bought.” Chris grinned, using the moment to suggestively dip his fingers underneath the waistband of the sweats Leon was wearing. He didn’t even go very far yet, only hinted at what could follow, and it already made a thrill run along Leon’s spine. 

Carefully he turned around in the circle of Chris’ arms, wrapping his own around Chris’ neck. “That does sound like a good plan,” he practically purred, pressing himself closer, in a way that made sure their hips grinded together. “We’ve got to start from somewhere, if we plan on going through all of _our _rooms at some point.” 

They were both smiling so much that kissing didn’t really work out that well, all they managed were chaste little pecks that made them both laugh. It was a special kind of high, being able to refer to this place as _theirs_, claim it together, make it a home. Neither of them were really the type to get attached to living quarters, but it was more the fact that they were taking this step together. They were building a future together.

And nothing could’ve been better.

Easily Chris hoisted Leon up, gratuitously grabbing his ass just because he could. Equally as easily Leon’s legs found their way around Chris, helping to support his weight. Leon cupped Chris’ jaw in both his palms, urging him to tilt his head so that he could kiss him deeper this time. Distantly he was aware of the way Chris was walking them towards the bedroom, but he had more urgent matters to attend. 

“Wait,” Leon gasped as they broke apart for breath, trying to focus his hazed gaze to Chris. “Did we unpack the sheets yet? I’m not going to get spunk on the new mattress and ruin it.”

The guilty look Chris gave him was answer enough. Neither of them had any idea where the sheets were. For a second they stared at each other, before Chris was the one to break the silence. “Shower?”

Eagerly, Leon nodded. “Shower.”

*

The television was on in the background but Chris was barely paying it any attention, pleasantly drowsy where he was snuggled into the corner of the couch. It had been a long day, hell, it had been a long _week _and he was ready to just sleep for a goddamn month at this point. He’d barely managed to drag himself through showering, and now he wasn’t going to move a single muscle if he could help it.

Chris was already almost asleep when Leon appeared into the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, and cleared his throat to get Chris’ attention. ”Hey do we have any forks?” Leon asked. He looked as tired as Chris felt, and Chris really had no idea how Leon was even up on his feet right now instead of crashed onto the cushions right next to him. 

With extreme effort Chris managed to bring his brain back online, and he spent a minute going through his mental catalogue of what had gone where when they’d moved in… fuck, had it really been two weeks ago already? And they hadn’t even unpacked fucking _forks_? Distastefully he eyed the few boxes that were piled next to the coffee table. ”I think they’re in the box we moved under the kitchen table.” He decided, finally.

Leon sighed and shook his head. ”No, I checked. The box had Christmas lights.” He leaned heavily against the doorframe, even closed his eyes for a second, and it somehow made the dark circles under them look even more pronounced. 

”Oh,” Chris said, intellectually. He kicked at one of the boxes he could reach, only lightly though. “Should we unpack these?” Inwardly he was praying for the answer to be no, he was so not in the mood for any kind of unpacking right now. Possibly ever. Well, at some point they’d do it, but that moment was not now. 

Either Leon noticed the extreme reluctance or he was feeling the same himself. He shook his head and pushed himself upright with great effort. ”…I’ll just use a spoon. We unpacked them on Saturday.”

“Sure,” Chris said, comically relieved. Only then he realized that it was apparently food that Leon was trying to fix, and already at the thought his stomach growled demandingly. “Hey, can you bring me some too?”

“Already on it!” Came the reply from the kitchen. 

Later, when Leon had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on Chris’ chest, and Chris had woken up from his own nap, Chris remembered that the forks were in the same box as their vacuum cleaner. Because why not. Packing everything had been quite a hasty affair, and well, he might’ve just stuffed things exactly where they happened to fit, regardless of all logic. He’d been tired, and he was sure Leon had been doing the same thing too.

He had no energy to do anything about it, though, so he shifted until he was more comfortable, until he had Leon pressed against his side, all warm and sleepy and pliant. Within seconds he was back asleep.

*

Slowly they actually managed to get more boxes unpacked, one by one, usually when they noticed they needed something and had to go look for it. There were still three mysterious boxes in the bedroom, though, big ones with such mixed contents that they hadn’t felt like going through them at all. Leon had already said that if they’d make it through the first year without opening the boxes, he’d just throw them out like that.

”Do you have any idea where the waffle iron is?” Chris asked from where he was half in the kitchen cupboard. He’d been rummaging through it for a good while now, unsuccessfully, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Claire called, she wants to have it back.”

”I didn’t even know we still had it,” Leon offered his absolutely useless help with a shrug. He took a long drink from his coffee, before setting the mug onto the counter. “The only boxes we haven’t unpacked are in the bedroom.”

Chris groaned and pulled back, straightening properly. “Not _those _boxes?” He was already immensely reluctant to go look through them, but he was even more reluctant to call Claire and tell her the waffle iron has vanished. Maybe he could buy her a new one…

“C’mon,” Leon chuckled and reached out to grab Chris’ wrist, pulling him along. “I’ll help you look through them.”

The daunting boxes were already covered in a layer of dust, as no one had as much as touched them in the past several weeks. Leon wiped some dust off the top one, before forcing the lid open so that they could peer inside. The first thing Leon pulled out of the box was a sock. “Why on earth did you pack _socks _here?”

“…probably to protect something easily breakable,” Chris hazarded a guess. That did sound like him, he had the tendency to roll breakable items into layers of clothing to protect them, so why not? “Not the waffle iron though… Just dig a little deeper.”

Leon threw the sock onto the floor. It was soon followed by four more of those, along with a wrench, three books that neither of them remembered to ever have seen, a remote controlled toy jeep that sadly had no batteries (Chris tried to test it, and would’ve hunted down some batteries for it, too, if Leon hadn’t stopped him), an oven mitt, and a single shoe with no laces. 

Then Leon pulled an old, kind of beat up photo album from the box. “What is this?” 

Immediately Chris recognized the album, melancholy and nostalgia twisting in his gut. He reached out for the book, gently brushing over the cover, before opening it to the first page. The first picture was one where a six-year-old Chris was beaming proudly at the camera, with a barely weeks old Claire carefully set in his lap. He was holding her like she was something precious, obviously heeding the warnings from adults. 

Leon leaned in, peeking at the photo from over Chris’ shoulder. “Holy _fuck _you’re _adorable_,” he breathed out, a grin already stretching his lips as he took in the photograph. “Does it have more?” He was already reaching out to turn the page, eager to see more of these. How had he never bullied Chris into showing him baby pictures before? Such wasted opportunities. 

“Take your grubby hands off,” Chris warned, but there was no heat in the order, especially not with the way he was smiling. He looked almost… hesitant as he turned to smile at Leon, eyes sparkling. “Wanna go through them with me?”

“Of course I do!” Leon answered without a second of hesitation. 

That’s how they ended up sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard. Chris had his knees drawn up so he could balance the photo album on them, and Leon settled comfortably against Chris’ chest. It was comfortable and relaxed, and Chris went through every single photo, sharing childhood stories he could remember, answering the random questions Leon dropped in between. There were photos all the way up until the Raccoon City disaster, even though most of them were from the Redfields’ early childhood.

They’d been at it for probably hours when Chris’ phone rang, and he recognized the caller already from the ring tone. “Shit. It’s Claire…” he grimaced, closing his eyes for a second. “Maybe if I’ll ignore it she’ll let it go?”

“C’mon, you big baby,” Leon laughed, reaching over Chris to grab the phone off the coffee table. “Hi Claire!” he answered, with exaggerated cheer. “I’ve got to say, the goth look you sported when you were fifteen? Not your best moment.”

Chris could hear Claire’s ‘_what the fuck_?’ clear as day. Laughing he sank deeper into the pillows, letting Leon deal with the call. 

Maybe Claire should come look for the damn waffle iron herself. It’d be a good excuse to go through the pictures again.


End file.
